The Broken Mirror Witch
by LuciusBelyakov
Summary: The unicorn race may have survived, yet Lily, Jack & the fairy band didn't live happily ever after. And unbeknownst to them one of the oldest monsters in the world has been waiting in the shadows for them... a force that not even Darkness could control.


_Once long ago, before there was such a thing as time, the world was shrouded in darkness._

_Then came the splendor of light, bringing life and love into the universe, and the Lord of Darkness retreated deep into the shadows of the earth, plotting his return to power...by banishing light forever._

_But precious light is protected, harbored in the souls of unicorns, the most mystical of all creatures. Unicorns are safe from the Lord of Darkness, they can only be found by the purest of mortals... Such a mortal is Jack, who lives in solitude with the animals of the forest._

_A beautiful girl named Lily loves Jack with all her heart. In their innocence, they believe only goodness exists in the world. Together they will learn there can be no good without evil...no love without hate...no heaven without hell...no light without darkness._

_The harmony of the universe depends upon an eternal balance. Out of the struggle to maintain this balance comes the birth of Legends._

**- **William Hjortsberg

* * *

><p><strong>The Broken Mirror Witch<strong>

**Chapter 1: Requiem for a Screwball**

_**O**__NCE UPON A TIME, A FEW YEARS FROM WHERE OUR STORY ENDED…_

Reindeers walked on water. The place was called The Body of the Lady of the Lake. The lake was tough and stiff with frost, a glass thick enough that dragons and giants might stand where they were, never breaking it in two or opening the waters. The animals drew a light sleigh across the mirror with their heavy backs. Their cargo included an elf with closed eyes, and a confetti of white roses, their bloom fat and open, seeing no repercussion for opening in winter.

The flowers covered him and the deer cart like a cape. Wherever the white grounds were scratched up roses would fall down and get left behind, leaving a sort of breadcrumb trail to lead others to where they were, in case any wanderer would care to participate, and give a kingdom hero a send-off.

His face was the one part of him that was not covered with a rose. His mouth was the only mouth in the crowd that did not make smoke with his breath in the middle of winter's cruelty. And he had the only mouth there that was able to smile through it all. His shut eyes were the only eyes that seemed to see something nice in the midst of all the funerary rites and magick.

A circle of flying lighted candles strolled behind them. A few men and women appeared behind that fire show. The O'Thegreens were there. Jack was the first others would notice. He wore black in the middle of the whiteland, a cloak soaked with snowflakes where the train of it dragged on earth. But though he was the most obvious, he was the hardest to recognize of the guests had you not seen him since he was awarded for his services to the forest and made sheriff.

It was unusual for a man already leaving his teens to all of a sudden get new inches of height under his feet. He was almost half of a foot greater in size than he was when he climbed down to Darkness' castle in the earth and stabbed him in his own throne room, and sewed Stallion's horn back on his head.

Jack was also a little gaunter now than even his natural shape. His face was hardened handsomeness. The disciplined skin was eaten away by the hood he wore, it divided the face as if he were wearing half of a mask. And the dark color in his eyes was more plain than ever before, each iris was black, and bags and shadows were knitted underneath the bottom lids. But his gaze was more than it used to be. As a boy he had always looked right at a thing, not away, but now he examined instead of only listening when he looked.

His walk was that of a confident man, a more brisk step, higher-held head. He was also a more elegant man. A long-fingered white hand gestured out of the black robes for a moment, the winter had even taken all his warm color away.

Lily O'Thegreen was no easier to know. She was more buxom now, years of having blue children with stopped hearts had done that. Her appearance had faded, but she had always had a star's shine, and so she faded like a star. The light of a star is white and neat early on, but when a star is dying it changes its look, shaking with time, colors mutating. Yet even with her energy removed it does not make a star less to watch when it is nearing dust, when its stressed with fire, and glamour has turned to red and fall, when its muddied. Oh no! Lily's nice appearance was watered down yet voluptuous. She was also more common now, she was not delicate and she did not appear wealthy, but that made her looks more touchable, less false and not so overly kept. She had become an earth angel instead of one carrying a harp in her arms and using a halo for a hat.

Her eyes were unmistakably sad however. Some say they were permanently blue, or purple or grey, something lighter than brown, all from crying. Yet just like Jack's they were more rich than they once looked, sparkling with emotion. They were bright as a cat's really, but an old, sick one's.

Her clothes were periwinkle, she had a high-collar with a few dragon flies embroidered here and there. She had a hat on, with a model of a swan atop the black bowler. The swan's neck curled around her pale, plain face like ivy, mixing with the spotted black veil that stopped at the lips to a poker face.

The forest gump was there too. Honeythorn was still the reigning gump, and there would never be another so long as his small fingers could form a fist and manage to swing, which they would do so long as his heart still pounded. He was every bit the same, not one detail about him had changed, still trapped in the form of a magic child.

He carried his fiddle over his back, his lanky legs making a giraffe's stride as he went along the snow. He wore a tall laurel crown for the occasion, but no real clothes as usual, some shrubbery around his hips and thighs.

Oona however had changed enough on behalf of them both, making up for Gump's lack of originality. After 3 centuries her body had given a little, her face was that of a 15-year old girl perhaps, a round face, quick to show expression. She had fleshed out a little and grown; she was a tall girl, shapely, regal; her bones were bigger. She had been crowned the Fairy Queen 3 Augusts ago, and was styled Oona Titania now. She had taken off her ceremony for the occasion however, instead of the peacock feather headdress, (the first of the crown jewels of the house of Sugarplum,) she put blood-colored roses in her hair. They were a symbol of the gashes acutely felt on everyone's hearts this day.

She was as beautiful as anyone though, so long as you ignored the broken heart shining through her face or the rock-sized tears in her eyes. Her hair was still plentiful, orange and curly. Her skin was still gold, and her lips still silver and covered with the pearls apart of her skin. She had gained many tattoos now as a symbol of her office. As a handbag she carried a glass ball big as the globe of the known world in an alchemists' study.

She huddled under something sheer, against the teeth of the wind. It was a metallic fabric that could levitate of its own free will. The wind could stand still, Oona herself could stand perfectly still, but that shawl would keep crawling around her, tilting up in exactly the same way as you might see a charmed snake hearing its master's music being played.

The living, breathing clothes began to coil around her neck, and on the velvet patterns on her chest, trying to get warm just as she tried to do. The dress was the tone of elderberry wine.

A midget in a suit of armor walked in the shade of Oona's skirts. Though his gait was narrow from his lack of height, he walked with some purpose. His hair was steeped in melted snow. The water drops fell out of that black lion's mane and teardrops scratched his skin. He donned knight's clothing in honor of his friend and their adventures together. This was the very costume he wore when he was nearly baked into a chicken pan pie and Screwball found himself in a locked cage, the same exact costume down to the chain mail and stockings.

Apart from pain, Blunder looked the same, his hair had only grown, and it was unmanageable. Some of it fell down his chest and covered the black metal, but most of it was tucked inside of it. At his side he carried the helmet that finished his dress, and as this was a mourning hour it could not help but evoke a cut off head.

Ahead of the fairy queen was Brown Tom who wore a coat of several golden-headed foxes, not of course obtained by the death of any such souls, but rather gifted to him by a fox aristocrat who took him for a peddler as he laid out on a summer road. He wore a red hat and smoked pipe as they marched through the snow. He was surprisingly the calmest of them all, going up to everyone trying to keep their spirits up, offering them the herb and an attentive word. He was the only of those gathered who appeared to have grown younger. He had cut his hair and red beard until they were just attractive curls about the face.

The very last of the gatherers was a young male hooded in a blue about the color of an abalone shell. He had white bangs underneath the short cloak, but they were not white with age's strike, his face was a boy's, however serious it was. The hair was a magic white, white as moon dust, white unicorn meat or the bones of kings. The stranger came with a silver walking stick half hidden in his arms, as if the staff itself were a misshapen limb. He had black shoes on.

When they reached the agreed upon place Jack unhooked the sleigh from its carriers and dragged the wood with the body ontop to the center of the space. He moved quickly and did not look at Screwball's uncovered face. He said nothing as he did this. Screwball had the look of an oversized toy as the Christmas cart he was there sleeping on was moved into a place of prominence.

All eyes fell on Sheriff O'Thegreen, but in his shyness he broke contact with them again and again. He came to set his eyes instead upon fish that had frozen to death, and people who had fallen through the ice once, a rainbow of skins and twisted clothes sailing away right under his shabby brown shoes.

Lily held onto his arm and squeezed it with her love, hoping that would fill his mouth with words. When none came she cleared her throat. She may have had a sad face now, but never did she lose her way with words or love of people. In fact when one loses other things what they still have often grows.

Tired of the lack of leadership Gump stepped forward begrudgingly, stopping the couple in their tracks. He sighed and walked over to the corpse on the wood, his naked toes barely touching the ice, every once and awhile hi feeet rose less than half of an inch of the ground. He sat down in the cold looking at his old employee, an arm hanging on the sleigh that petals were knitted to.

"Old friend," he began, not suppressing a light, nervous laugh.

"Well, you've lived more of a life than I have, and I'm thirty years you're senior. It is a good end to a life, I should like it. And Fortuna saw that you felt no pain."

He pat his comrade upon one of his fleshy arms as he talked.

"And your many good deeds will be remembered," he began.

He shouted now so that the gathering would take heed, "Right now the divine banquet hall is welcoming you with a fanfare of goddesses!"

"Jack I believe you have something," he turned and looked back, growing exasperated at hearing only cooing doves and no human voices, no responses or cheers.

"This sword is yours," said Jack to dead Screwball.

He handed over Bivacorn. The sword was named anew for every owner that possessed it. This name was given by the elder wood nymphs, a name evoking the unicorns that this sword was gifted in the chase after. "Bi" for two. Two horns, 'just as life is two-sided' they said, containing darkness alongside light, both intertwined in destiny so that neither is possible without the other. This sword likewise had two purposes, to create and destroy life side-by-side. It was the sword that he had put a binding on the prince of darkness with, and behead the hag of the swamp, but it was also a weapon that enabled him to preserve life; he protected Lily with it, and with blood he forged his way into the iron palace, where he took back Stallion's horn and resurrected him. He had spared lives at the point of the sword when it was no harder for him to cut them away. And of course the sword had brought about great life for all who currently dwelled in the world, bringing summer back to the earth once and for all.

He tossed her in such a way that she fell across Screwball's clasped hands and fingers, and he was made the image of a knight holding his sword in the tomb. But the movement Jack made was fast, he appeared glad to be rid of the metal witch, as though he had no particular like of carrying her.

He bowed his head and stepped back into the pattern of the group.

He whispered to only himself into his own teeth, "I will come and light a fire at your grave everyday."

Gump sat the Timepiece of the Elements on the edge of the sleigh by his leg, carefully so that it did not roll away from Screwball. It was the sphere of water and colored chess pieces he used to estimate their journey with as they tracked through the forest to save Alicorn.

He waved his hand, commanding the others to come and join him.

Oona was the first, running through the snow, jiving arms, wild as if she thought Screwball would disappear into the thin air at any moment, and she had to make it in to him time.

Her hair had come undone, the bun had fallen down, just loose red hair that butterflies flew out of (when she was upset her magic was not under control at every moment.) The sitting red flowers were down to only a petal or two each, just broken husks around her hair.

When she walked over her fists were clenched and baby-like at first, her pain was at the point that it made the body no longer fluid, and speech no longer eloquent. She was angry at someone for his death, someone ought to pay! But who?

She lifted the veil of candles he was hidden behind, knocking a couple over, their flames were instantly put out in the snow.

She kissed Screwball's nose, and as she knelt over him she took her own necklace from her skin, a set of bronze keys to many kingdoms in the world of Ferie, and folded the chain into his coat and its wool. The water running out of her eyes and nose kept staining his clothes.

Gump's instructions had been that each visitor (if possible) leave for the corpse a something to speak of Screwball's triumphs. Her necklace was only her own, and did not really uphold his plan, but he had not the heart to discourage its presence.

She kissed Screwball's frozen mittens over and over again, then gestured to her carriage, waving an arm for someone to come over, all the while never taking her eyes off the dead.

The pumpkin coach she had driven herself there in sat atop the hill. The orange doors slowly clicked open and white smoke poured from the inside out into the wonderlands. A blue-skinned child in teal linens stepped down a little mosaic staircase, carrying a giant pan of tin. It was this object she and Screwball had used to fill Darkness' halls with sun by and let chaos into his house, albeit Screwball had slept through most of her efforts.

As her courtier came Queen Oona pulled a baby boy from beneath her many crawling articles of clothing. He had an old man's face, a gray balding head and looked cranky. He had a body oversized, greater in scale than a wedding cake of many layers. His face was bloodshot with screaming. He gnashed his teeth until the veins at his temple nearly came part. His fists clenched with rage and a long rope of a tongue ran down his chin.

She sat the baby down next to Screwball, using some of his spare clothes to keep it warm.

Gump bellowed, "Oona!"

"Please Gump…"

"You're not fit to wear your title!"

Gump pointed his finger at her, pointing as stiff as an English pointer dog on hunt. His nature as something not human became more pronounced, as he shrieked a cry that was closer in pitch to birdsong than human speech.

He walked over with his hands on his hips, "Trying to cheat death and substitute a _changeling?"_

He barked at her majesty in front of the whole wake until he was out of breath. Somewhere in there were some comments about it being _impossible, _and that _Lady Death would retaliate, _and _infanticide _being _wrong without a license, _and that only_ ritualistic purposes recognized by the Lord Ariel edition calendar._

She stood without speaking, her arms hanging like limp carrots, her shoulders slumped, glitter getting the best of her eyes. She might have been able to hold her own in rank with him now, she was not his servant any longer, but master of herself. Yet she would always be a bit scared of Gump, he was something of a controlling elder brother in spirit.

She scooped the creature out of the makeshift coffin and rocked him. As he was such a large baby it did take her a minute to get his head in a position she could support easily.

She curtsied for Gump with the baby still in toe, then went on her way up the snowcap alone, her long orange wings dragging on the ground.

She whispered all the things she wished she had snorted back at Gump to the changeling who had fallen asleep and snored in her arms.

Before she could get too far Lily put out her arms to beg her not to leave their presence. Overjoyed, Oona ran over to her, crying her heart out into those amiable arms. She looked at Lily kissing her skin of stars in place after place.

Lily helped her with the heavy baby, taking him and rocking him for her, perhaps a little too eagerly. The two members of royalty held hands in the snow.

Jack stood to Lily's other side avoiding looking at either one of the women.

He did finally whisper, "Be of good cheer Oona…"

"It is as Gump told you. He is dancing on a pin's head with angels. Don't deprive him of that," he smiled at her widely, but with an undercurrent nervousness.

Oona looked up at Jack, question marks in her eyes.

He suddenly found the unmade coffin interesting again, looking straight on.

Since he would say no more to her she looked down at his shadow, having a conversation in her mind with that. Her Curly-toed gold shoes wiggled in the snow.

"I might like to join him," Jack whispered to no one.

And Suddenly...

"Gump, does not a good heart make a good government as well as a good law?"

The pale one stepped out of the maze of people, his voice was low and trailing, as if the language he spoke were not his first language. The words had to be carefully made, though they were made perfect.

"Laws are as fragile as dolls. When the law broke I lost a father," the guest lowered his hood.

When his hood was dropped a necklace of grey unicorn horns was revealed across his skin, worn as a spiked collar. The flesh of his body was subtler than the snow, it was only a few shades darker than something clear. The black shoes he donned, carved out of wood, high as Geta from foreign empires, they represented hooves.

Lily looked a little afraid. Nobody in the woods had forgotten what she had done; a print from a loving hand left the Master of the Unicorns dead by day's end. She was acquitted by fairy court for a number of reasons. There was still some social awkwardness with the prosecution and discipline of human criminals. And never before had a member of royalty been indicted. The risk of conflict between neighboring kingdoms was feared, this world was not prepared to be invaded by a human army seeking revenge for the loss of their lady.

It was also an acceptable defense that she was from another place, therefore did not know it was wrong. She had never seen unicorns before and never knew of the customs of a land where they lived in. Of course it was a lie, but who knew of that but Jack? Jack, Jack who had gone to court and lied to protect his betrothed, saying that she did not know, and fell on his sword. Any normal man or woman could read easily the face of a man not used to making up fables, the terror, the guilt, but their jury was a band of sprites and frogs.

He was not that man now any longer, if he lied it would no longer be read, he had seen such filth that his expression was not going to change much, no matter what news he heard. But had she been tried today he would not have lied, he would have said what he witnessed and what he counseled Lily against, nothing would he extenuate for her. Hopefully the courts would have granted her mercy. The downswing of life's wheel of fortune had made him less willing to part with the one thing he could keep forever if he wanted, some honor.

Back then Jack was Lily's greatest card to play, as he enjoyed the popularity of the people then as he did now, she gained some grace simply by affiliation with him. No one thought he was a man of false words, so his testimony was well-worth considering, even if they did not know him that well he was not by appearance the sort of gentleman you would cross the road and avoid. But they _did_ know him fairly well, well enough not to wish any misfortune upon him. They knew his of quiet, his willingness to work hard without complaint, they knew his lack of snobbery, and they knew they'd never heard him lie. His years of perfect services to the forest long before the affair of the unicorn had been well-remembered too, and they of his sad straits as well, a boy without family. Yes, they knew enough about Jack O'Thegreen that he was entitled to some mistakes by now, he could enjoy the luxury of second and third, even fourth, fifth and sixth chances.

Still to better things, Lily had Gump among her judges. Jack had also threatened the remaining members of the tribunal. Lily's efforts on behalf of Mare had also been widely publicized by none other than Jack, who took up money for her defense. She had not only cut the chain that kept the Mare in Darkness' jail, setting her free and leaving herself at his mercy, and enduring a beating by her cruel host, but she also fought the first gang of goblins that came for the Mare Queen with only her two, manicured hands.

Although her actions had no technical bearing on the question of her original guilt, who would not keep them a factor in their minds?

Lawyer's words indeed carried_ that_ day, but they did not stop the occasional passerby from spitting on her in the days after.

The Unicorn Prince walked over to Lily, his feet sounded of a horse a trot as he made his way there. Those eyes, which were the blue part of a terrible flame, regarded her. She felt she was coming under hypnosis as he looked at her without a kind word. She saw herself in those eyes, they worked on her like a mirror would, a broken mirror. She could have sworn she saw different pieces of herself in that blue mirror.

Oona stared the man down, her clasped hand all the while locking and pinching Lily's protectively.

He asked, "Lily of The Southern Valley, I sat at your trial. Had you known that?"

He lifted Lily's chin and neck while he put the question to her, so that her eyes better met him, her dark coils bouncing back like a poppet. It was a deliberate gesture mocking the touch she gave Stallion, which ended up with the day being cursed. He might touch her, a Unicorn can touch whatever they please, only healing properties were of their skin. It was when the reverse happened, impure substances tried knowing their skin, that it triggered misfortune, as they found out all those years ago.

She hung her head.

Jack put his hand demonstratively in front of Lily.

"Heart was our one protector and not laws…" the blue eyes whispered, bowing his head.

And the unhappy guest went and knelt down at Screwball's graveside, turning a blind eye to her.

"Alas, I have nothing of the journey of mine to give to thee, I did not make it with you," he said sympathetically, smoothing what little hair was left on the dead forest creature's face, which was few feathers, he was almost bald except for his beard.

He wore a pair of short and black leather gloves that he adjusted with some dislike. He relieved himself of one, slapping it into the snow, and squeezed his naked hand here and there. He hid a hand covered in calluses from the crowd, a serving hand, one of the lowest level of the field, sore and blistered, knotted. The hand had deformed fingers swollen, stubby and ugly, it was as though someone had crushed it repeatedly. But there were blue fingernails and some soft skin left in-between the warped parts of his hands.

He touched the dead better with his monster's hand, but as he did so he accidentally restored a little of the man's youth. Some golden blond flecks appeared in the beard, and the other half of his face, the section of skin that others could not see, was now a young man's.

He lifted his hand, "I am sorry, forgive me."

A note of surprise was in his voice, he had forgotten his own greatness, the more he touched, the younger the dead man would have grown. Had he stayed with him for long he would have recalled him from the dead, but that would have opened the door to things worse than death...

As darkness said of the Foal's race, "Looking upon these frail creatures one would not think that they could contain such power. One could rule the Universe with it!"

The doorway to other worlds was one a unicorn could open... but it was trouble, more than it was usually worth. And then there was the question of how long he could keep animating him? He had died of ripened age, not murder, not happy accident. He could not just tie his life ends back together in knot, as he could do for someone else, he had no more life in him. He would have to keep siphoning it out of other things to sustain Screwball.

Nobody appeared to notice that there was any change in the corpse's from where they stood.

He lowered his eyes and finished his train of thought, "It is still as I say, but here is a hair lock from my mother the queen. A lady whom thee and Madame O'Thegreen defended well."

Brown Tom pointed to himself in the chest, "Actually laddy…"

He meant to correct the winter guest, and tell him that he had confused the two, Screwball did not fight the goblins, it was he, Brown Tom, that stood there with Lily and used his trusty old frying pan as a mallet. But Gump ran over there and stomped Brown Tom on the foot, surely breaking the bone in half for months.

The stranger prince looked up confused.

"Yes!" Gump exclaimed nervously, taking the embarrassment off of the speaker. While Brown Tom bit down on his pouting lips behind Gump.

The Unicorn man opened his hands and let straight silver trimmings waft onto the body.

He stayed sitting by the cadaver for a time, happily not noticing the passage of that. Until he began to hold one of his hands with some difficulty. Then his wrist, which had some blood upon it. He smiled, and rose, still clutching his hands, allowing someone else to take his place.

He stood at Gump's side. They whispered back and forth things that no one else could hear. What could they have been conspiring?

Blunder walked over to Screwball after that. He gave the helmet of his suit to Screwball, putting it onto his head and shutting the face, noticing a little more magic about his look, he looked young, there were roses in his cheeks! But Blunder did not know what to do with that, it was surely his eyes that misled him!

The two men, the one who died and the one who was alive, were a kind of backward mirror of each other. Blunder only wore hard and shining things, armor sharp and glassy as dragon scales, chains from the mines worn up and down his wrists as bracelets. Screwball had a soft felt hat on, and other gentle materials, except for the soldier's helmet he gave him then.

Their very colors were also turned backward, Screwball was a Spriggan, he had a painting of colors he had patched together to be his coat, pink, greens. The metal was Blunder's only color. Blunder had also stayed young and healthy, while Screwball's body was so very old and clearly dead. And Screwball had died as he had lived, a big man. Blunder was a waif and athletic, small. Then Blunder was shaven, Screwball's beard tumbled down from him dragging across the snow more like a tail or a costume. Even the color of their hair opposed each other, Blunder's was the color of a veil you would wear to a funeral, but leave it to Screwball to come with hair the color of a wedding veil.

Brown Tom was on his way over after that. He poured the brand of the wine they were drunk on the day that daylight died, spilling it on the grave like blood. He made some obscure comment about how they would, "All laugh at gilded butterflies."

Gump stared hard at him, and was very surprised that he did not find the scent of his pouring drink in his clothes or mouth. He acted as though he were wise now, as if he had journeyed to edge where he was given a boon of some poetic rhapsody.

Plump Brown Tom waddled away confidently.

Lily took a deep breath and realized there was no one left to speak, save her. Her eagerness had been shaken a little after her acquaintance with the last member of the Unicorn royal family, The Balaunces. She worried that she might anger Gump too somehow, this family had ruled the woofs long before Gump took office and they had supported him, donated to his campaign. They were the only people whom Gump was humble with.

Lily walked forward, the changeling baby still in her arms until Jack relieved her of it. Though children were not their lot in life, he had enough experience with healing that he had come across patients of all ages.

Her breath obscured her face as she walked, she looked like she had no head for a moment as the fog grew and grew around her, she had forgotten how cold it was. She rubbed her soft white gloves together, still cold through her goat's wool. Her shoes clicked on the ice as she walked, the footprints making the sound of the harpsichord.

Lily stood still, alone in the center of the glass of the lake.

"I did not keep many trinkets from the journey, God knows why…" she laughed nervously, projecting her voice across the echoing ice.

Everyone laughed a little.

Realizing her voice was louder than it ought be, she spoke much quieter, as if she were praying.

"I have my voice though, that was with me then. I suppose it was a big reason why we quested," her voice cracked a little.

"So if it does not give offense to anyone, I'll sing like I did that day," she nervously waited for some approval.

Gump gave her a nod and his friend opened his gloved hands as if to ask _why not_.

"Would everyone be alright with 'In the Bumps and the Hollows?'"

She did not dare sing "Come Down Sparrow" of all things, right here in front of this man of all people whose family she had gotten killed and imprisoned. She would have worked herself into a vomit so bad that Jack would have asked her to stay home, had she known such a person would be there. Jack would have tried to stay with her, but he would have lost the battle of wills as usual, and been sent to the funeral to see his battle partner sent off well.

When nobody responded she timidly started to sing,

_In the bumps and the hollows,_

_The sunlight and shadows._

_He kissed her as those bluebells played._

Jack could not help but smile and look at her with some love, it brought back a rose-covered summer. She was the first fellow human he'd ever known. He was an orphan and lived a pagan in the woods with only the fair folk until she came along lost in a red cloak, a braid on each side of her head, singing and dancing. It was this song, sung on a bee-stung mouth.

She had proposed to _him_ to this song, handing out the black and white ring that nearly killed him. She pushed him down the hill into the pond, and when he came back up for air, waving the ring the curse they had set in motion earlier that day without knowledge had run its course, and he bumped his head on ice, for the whole lake had died, when he came up there was no season left in the world but winter, all life sucked out of the earth in a second, when his back was turned. But he thought not of the evil parts of the day. He thought of the cookies she'd stolen from a country family and said were hers and handed out to him just 20 minutes before. And of the chase he gave her.

He also remembered that in his greatest hour of need this same song had been the clue that saved his life. Only when he answered Gump's riddle correctly, for which he had only one chance to do so, only then would he grant him pardon for calling out the unicorns and setting up a secret meeting with them and a mortal.

The question was this: _W__hat is the bell that does not ring, yet its smell makes then angels sing?_

Her soprano gave him the clue. Such a flower is called a bell, but flowers do not make noise, they only smell. Had Lily not sung that day of bluebells his head was very likely to have been struck off and left to lie a red poppy in that very bluebell field the question was prompted in.

_As his lips met her breath,_

_He went sweetly to death_

_At the roots of the bluebells is where he's laid. _

He remembered one flawless kiss.

He heard Oona applauding up a storm and realized the song was all over. He did not even know how she sounded, his wife only hummed a little these days, it was years since the last time he had heard her try to sing her heart out. Could she hit the notes? Was her sound lush?

He played with the baby a little, pointing out his wife to the child. The thing waved.

Gump led, "Yes, Lily has the right idea."

He smiled, "For every death there is always a feast day."

He struck up his fiddle, and his bow near caught afire as it danced up and down the strings. The bow sprouted long white wings of its own, its thin body giving the wood the quality of an enormous insect.

He stamped a foot on the icy grounds, kicking up snowflakes as the jig grew louder and louder, and he played the role of the very devil himself, he was next to naked, he had such plentiful brazenness, his Cheshire cat smirk and the wildfire in his irises.

"A feast? Right here in the ice, Gump?" asked Brown Tom, getting up slowly.

"Why not here?"

"I don't know that the child should stay in the cold much longer," mentioned Jack.

"Somewhere else then? Lets see…" said Gump.

Oh did he feel the strands of music in his fingers, so much so that he would not break concentration with that instrument, and look any of them in the face at that moment. He only paid attention to that happy music-maker, and didn't say a word.

He pulled a foreign coin from his pocket, a gold one with a picture of a beautiful rhinoceros matron on one side, and a elephant gentleman on the other. He flipped it in the air with his right hand and caught it, his left one still playing the fiddle.

The pretty rhinoceros empress fell head first. He ended the song.

"Does anyone have any objection to Bald Mountain?"

"Where is Bald Mountain?" Lily asked, her voice sounding like a little girl's. She seemed as she said in one of the songs that she wrote the words to, _like a child feels watching a rainbow._

Gump leaned in using the bow to gesture over to her, he had that wretched, gleeful look about him. The smile he could not control whenever he was going to kill someone truly deserving or invent some imaginative punishment.

"You'll see Lily."

He said it quietly, the sport from his face all gone. It scared her life away.

Everyone began to quietly, almost uniformly gather their things.

Oona asked, "What about Screwball?"

"I see no reason why he can't come with us,"

"He is after all the King of the Feast…so who's got him?" Gump finished.

Jack unemotionally began lifting Screwball, such was his duty in life it seemed, to just be there and move things for people.

"He can go in my carriage," Oona said dully, she was so tired.

Gump paid the reindeer in silver for their services and waved them goodbye.

"I can fly there if some more space is needed in the carriage," Brown Tom started.

"This here coat gives me a lot of help when it is needed. One thing it does is fly."

"Good, good. Yes, you do that Brown Tom," Gump nodded.

He announced, "Those of you who have wings, or carry any other piece of enchantment with them, please fly or teleport or borough or swim, or use any technique you would like to reach Bald Mountain."

"But not you Oona, We need a driver. Unless you can drive in your diminutive form. If you could lift the reins, then some someone could sit next to you…"

"No I can't."

She walked over to the coach picking up the hem of her skirts as she trotted through the snow. Lily came running with the baby confused, only following the queen's lead. She ran mumbling things into Oona's pointed ears.

He looked around quickly realizing that no one else had wings.

Jack and Brown Tom struggled with Screwball into the carriage. The Prince of Unicorns came to try and lighten their load.

"I have it!" stated Jack with some harshness.

Oona clapped her hands, dismissing her servants to make some room for the procession. She bid them a good journey and to take this time and go out and see the world, travel for a few weeks, it would not bother her, and to come back when they felt like it. She was sorry to let them off here.

Some men faded away, until there was nothing left but the snow upon which they stood.

Jack lifted Lily into the carriage by her waist, her light dress spilling over the steps like water. He smiled with a little teeth this time and looked somewhat like the little boy he used to be for a split second, putting his fingers on her face and giving her a kiss. She had pulled up her black veil to kiss him properly. She looked a million years younger and her lips turned red, and her eyes were back to the color of chocolate drops again.

Jack bowed as knights are supposed to for a woman of virtue. Then ran to the other side of the cart, climbing in. Screwball's giant corpse was in between the two however. Jack sat on the chrome and horse mane seats. They were white and shiny, a little too extreme for him. Then he could not help but notice the heavy pumpkin smell coming out of the walls still.

Lily tapped her knees anxiously, noticing all of the interesting gadgets hanging down from the ceiling, various inventions from rising stars in the world of fairy science, many of them must have served at Oona's court. Lily fancied herself an inventor these days, and thought she might ask Oona tonight if she could come visit soon. Lily had become increasingly reclusive over the years.

Being the unrepentant Pandora that she had always been she pulled on a red twirling cord that hung down from the roof. When she did so yellow lights bored out of some of the windows. She pulled the cord back down to turn the lights off, but instead a silver tray shot out from the arm of her seat instead, a glass vial unfolded, with an enchanted orchid in perfect bloom, bought from a traveler. The orchid sat in water, though this was rather absurd considering that the flower was bewitched to stay fully formed, and would not wilt. Other curiosities on the tray included a strawberry shortcake sandwich next to her to eat.

Then there was a blue lever that glittered on the door that was also calling to her. But before she could pull it the door swung open. Blunder was standing in the doorway looking up at her in a sapphire robe, his armor off, holding out a hand.

"Excuse me Princess,"

The place next to the right side of her was too small for a man to sit, but it may have been big enough for a goblin. He sat next to her with his legs out, not touching the floor, which had a carpet lain on it that you could hear growling loudly.

He picked the flower from the vase and gave it to her. She pecked him on the cheek. His brown skin was awfully cute, it was close to the shade of a rosewood tree.

She looked out the window just above his head, a bevel one, watching a fresh snow fall down. She noticed the Balaunce boy was in the foreground. His shadow seemed much larger than it had been, looming and black. He stood watching the way that the sun was setting casually. A white hand (his good one) was pressing his forehead, there seemed to be an ache there, the sunlight appeared to be making him feel better.

Whatever years Jack had just given back to her were taken away by looking over at him again, reminding her of hard things, perhaps a few extra years were taken even, so that she had even less going for her than when she started the day, back home years ago maids may have been able to fix this. Her eyes looked shadowed and ripe with bags. She grew pale and looked a little thinner as she stared through the glass at the potentate whose back was turned. His clothes looked totally black now in the shadow. It had to be her imagination…

At the front meanwhile Oona sat on a high black seat, waiting and looking lazy. Her dress was disheveled, the bosom raised, a bare leg dragging across the snow without shoes, her underskirts obvious. Her red hair slopped over her face as if she had been drinking. The orphan baby sitting next to her on the seat, eating a snowball with his big mouth, acting like it was made of tasty rice.

Outside, Brown Tom began running across the field, his boots going as fast as his clunky frame could go. As he ran he began suddenly soaring in midair with his fur cloak ballooning up. A mortal looking up at the sky would have surely found the site to be a man holding onto the best kite in the world.

"I hope he finds his way…" Gump muttered to himself with dread.

"Honeythorn," whispered Balaunce.

"Have you got to go?"

"Do you doubt it?"

Gump started to put his arms around him, but remembered the Rule of Touch.

"I can stand it in this form," the prince looked down at the snow.

Gump laughed a little, forgetting himself.

He grabbed the prince, "So long Theodore. A true friend!"

Theodore held his hands out stiffly while he was being embraced, or rather his hooves, they had turned completely to that, black and tough.

From out of his cloak slid a horse's hind leg, a puddle of blood underneath where he stood. The leg began to kick the stained snow under his feet.

He suddenly broke away, pushing Gump off of him. Walking across the ground, holding his hands. He did not wish for anyone to witness him transform. But he was also going to walk away with dignity, not tearing off, and going on four legs like a babe.

"When will you return?" Gump called out over the snowy field.

"It would take another moon cycle at best, you know that!" he muttered without looking back.

With that the white prince disappeared over the hill. The cane he had come with stayed in the snow, forgotten.

"Is it because of me Gump?"

A Lily left in the dark poked her head out the carriage window, her hair raining down on the glass.

"Is that why he shuns us?"

"Don't be stupid," he said, picking up the giant baby next to Oona.

"You know the way I trust?"

She nodded her head.

He walked over behind the carriage with the baby slung over his back, burping it. He proclaimed that a Unicorn knows only kindness, they'd never plot or have opinions, hate. And that they were one of the only sure beauties of the known world. He said all of this as if this were a great epic story for the child to hear.

He got on the back of the carriage, sitting on the hump shaped like a root with the changeling and waited for the ride to commence, bouncing the babe on his knee.

At the front there were soldiers carrying spades. They were tall and they were skinny, all wearing black, but with ornate gold and violet crests of Oona's house over their jackets. But in place of their head upon each of their shoulders sat a wide pumpkin without a neck.

Some of the men wore wool berets on top of their hallow orange heads. They acted as though they were idly talking to each other, here and there resting on the side of the carriage, one offering the other a breath mint from a tray in his pant pocket. Some had their feet propped up and their legs crossed. One may have had their hands on their hips. They had no faces to indicate life, only their walking forms.

"Attention gentlemen,"

The pumpkins looked up.

Oona leaned in, "If you can find us our destination before the hour's halfway run out, we will not be eating pumpkin tonight!"

The pumpkin men put on their halters to tie themselves down with, and they began to run, pulling the carriage, knees touching elbows in their rapid haste. And the pumpkin cart and all of its passengers rode over the river and through the woods...

_It is easy to go down into Hell; night and day, the gates of dark Death stand wide; but to climb back again, to retrace one's steps to the upper air – there's the rub, the task. _- Virgil


End file.
